I Know Places
by Spoonylicious
Summary: Andromeda Tonks dies, leaving Teddy behind. His godfather, Harry Potter, hasn't been seen since he left King's Cross Station on the first day of 7th year. His last relative Draco Malfoy, didn't enrol to 7th year either. So where on earth are they?
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes - Hello. This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter fanfic. It's an idea I've had floating around in my head for awhile so I thought I'd give it a go. I hope you enjoy it. I find the whole rating thing a bit confusing so the rating may change later on. I do repeat JKR a bit in the first part so just bare with me!

Disclaimer - I am not JKR.

Anthony Jones heard a knock on his office door. His department at the ministry had become increasingly busy over the last year or so. Muggles would have called him a Social Worker and his area Children's Services. Wizards called him an Advocate for Minors at the Department of Post-War Restoration. What he actually did was most of the time was find new homes for children who had been orphaned, either by the death of their parents, or by lengthy prison terms in Azkaban for them, due to the war. New orphanages had to be built. New staff needed to be trained. Distant relatives had to be found. It would have been sad if his heart hadn't been so hardened from having the same job after the First War.

"Come in," he called to the door before getting up and heading over to his filing cabinet to find some papers on a case he was working on.

He looked up and groaned as Timothy Albright shuffled in with several piles of parchments that were ready to fall out of his arms at any second. Jones had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He could never understand why the ministry kept giving him Squibs to work in his department. Sure, they were all nice people; conscientious most of the time. But they had to do everything the Muggle way and that took time.

"What can I do for you, Albright?" Jones winced as Albright dumped the files unceremoniously on to his desk. "What case are you working on?" Jones tried again, hoping to sound more patient this time.

"Case 394, sir. Ted Remus Lupin," Albright answered.

"And how is that going?"

"I think I've found a suitable solution for the time being but I want to go over it with you first before I do any official paperwork."

"Why don't you tell me what you know and we'll see where we get?"

"Alright." Albright straightened up in his chair and reached for the files he'd just dumped on Jones's desk.

"Born in April 1998 to Nymphadora Lupin and Remus Lupin. Both died during the Battle of Hogwarts. He was then brought up by his grandmother Andromeda Tonks (nee Black) until her death just last week. Her will names Harry Potter as the child's godfather but you'd have to have been living under a rock for the last year to know that he hasn't arrived to claim the child."

Jones knew alright. He went over the _Daily Prophet_ headlines in his mind – _Harry Potter Abandons Seventh Year At Hogwarts!_ – _The Chosen One Missing! _– _Was The Boy Who Lived Kidnapped? _– and after awhile - _Auror Department Deems Harry Potter Disappearance Not Suspicious, Abandons Search._ He was of age, after all. He could leave if he wanted to. Jones hadn't blamed the poor kid. Who'd want to return to Hogwarts after all that he'd been through there?

"I see," Jones pondered. "Was Andromeda married?"

"Yes, sir. He was caught and killed during the war."

"Okay, does the child have any aunts, uncles, cousins?"

"Both parents were only children. As far as I could find there isn't any family left on the father's side. As for the mother's..." he looked through his papers, "Ted Tonks was a Muggle-born so that rules that out."

"Why is that?" Jones enquired. The ministry was not adverse to placing orphaned children from wizarding families with their Muggle relatives if it was necessary.

"The child is a metamorphagus. I really don't think it would be appropriate to place him with a Muggle family," Albright replied. Jones observed that the younger man, although a bit clumsy, seemed to be quite confident when he was talking about cases. Maybe it wasn't so bad having this particular Squib working for him.

"Very well. What about the grandmother's family?"

"She had two sisters to whom she was estranged after her marriage..."

Jones sighed. Many cases he'd come across in his time involved this sort of thing. Family feuds over ridiculous things like money and blood status. He managed to get them to come round most of the time. It was important to the ministry to try and keep children with their blood relatives as much as possible.

"Go on," Jones prompted.

"Bellatrix Lestrange died during the Battle of Hogwarts. She was married to Rodolphus Lestrange, he's is Azkaban. They'd had no children. Narcissa Malfoy she is alive, one could say. She was attacked by vigilantes after her husband's trial. He's serving a life sentence in Azkaban. She's been in St Mungo's since then. She does have a son though – Draco. He was enrolled to repeat his seventh year at Hogwarts, like most of the students from that year, but he never turned up and he hasn't been seen since."

_Curious,_ Jones thought as he removed his glasses and placed them on the desk in front of him. He ran his hands through his hair.

"So where does that leave us? I thought you said you had a solution."

"Someone has come forward. Molly Weasley. She would be willing to care for the child for as long as necessary. She's not a young woman but she has raised seven children of her own and she's said to have been close to Mrs Tonks. She knows the little boy well."

"Okay. We'll get in touch with her and send someone over to do the necessary checks and paperwork. In the meantime the boy will need to stay in the orphanage."

"Very well," Albright nodded as he gathered up his files and made to let himself out of the office.

"I'll get my secretary to write something up for the _Prophet_ to put in tomorrow's paper. Maybe this is just the thing that will bring Harry Potter back from wherever he is. Or maybe even the Malfoy kid."

1st September 1998

Chris Allen really didn't need to be nervous, did he? Sure, he was nineteen years old and it was his first day on the job as a security guard at King's Cross Station and his partner, Rodger Harding, was pacing up and down their office mumbling to himself and wringing his hands. But surely the folks in authority wouldn't have paired him with someone who couldn't handle a new kid, right? He took a deep breath and swallowed.

"I-is everything alright, Rodger?" he asked nervously. He didn't want to offend the old codger on his first day.

"What? Huh?" Harding looked up as though the kid hadn't been standing there the whole time.

Harding pointed a fat, shaking finger at the young man before him.

"Strange things. Strange, strange things. Every year. No-one believes me. They all think I'm nuts!"

Allen was beginning to see why.

"Why is that?" he asked hesitantly.

Harding flopped down in the chair.

"I asked them not to roster me on on this day any more. " He stared straight at Allen. "They don't seem to notice it."

"Notice what exactly?" Allen was trying to keep his composure. He'd certainly be talking to his supervisor tomorrow about getting a transfer.

"Children. Lots of children. With trolleys. And owls. And all sorts of animals! And they're there one second and then they're _gone_."

"I see." Allen shifted nervously. _What a bloody nutter_, he thought.

They were both startled by a knock at the door. Allen opened it and a middle aged woman stood before him.

"Sorry to be a bother," she began.

"No problem," Allen smiled.

"It's just that I saw something a bit suspicious and I thought I'd better report to someone, you know, just in case?"

Before Allen knew it Harding was out of his chair and in the woman's face, shaking her.

"What? What is it?" he shouted.

"It's a trolley. I'm sorry, I-" the woman began, but Harding was already gone.

Allen smiled at the lady apologetically before running after Harding.

"It's over at platform nine!" she shouted after him. "I didn't get to tell you that," she said to herself before making her way out of the station.

When Allen finally caught up with Harding over on platform nine he found the older man circling an abandoned trolley, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Why don't we just move it?" he asked, reaching out for the handles of the trolley.

"DON'T !" Harding shouted, slapping Allen's hand away. "It could be a bomb!"

Allen frowned at the trolley. It looked innocent enough.

"A bomb?" a nearby commuter cried.

"Did you say there was a bomb?" gasped another.

_Oh crap_, thought Allen. How was he going to handle this one? It was obvious his partner was falling apart right before him. Passengers who heard their conversation were already running for the exits. Maybe he should call his supervisor? The police? The bomb squad? Scotland Yard? The bloody Prime Minister? Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth herself?

_No_, he told himself. _It's just a trolley. Nothing to worry about_.

"Why is there a trunk in the trolley, Allen? A _trunk_? Why would somebody keep a _trunk_ in a _trolley_ and just _leave _it in the middle of a train station?" Harding was gesturing wildly towards the trolley now.

Allen looked at the trolley. The trunk itself didn't look that unusual. His parents kept a similar looking trunk at the end of their bed. But Harding had a point.

"So what do we do then?"

Harding grabbed for the radio at his belt and spoke in to it.

"May day! May day! We have a situation here! We need reinforcements now!"

Allen stared at the mayhem surrounding him. People were tripping over each other to get to an exit. How the hell had things escalated so rapidly? Then he saw someone in the crowd coming towards them. Allen felt his body stiffen. The bloke was dressed in a business suit, he didn't seem dodgy to him.

"I thought you should know," he panted. "There's another trolley just like it over there," the man gestured to the other end of the platform before running back in to the chaos.

_Oh god, this just isn't my day. All this over two bloody trolleys._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Gah! I don't know what happened there! Thank you Anakaraya Ravenclaw for the review and for pointing out my embarrassing mistake. I lost chapter 2 so have had to write again. I hope I fixed it properly. :S

Disclaimer: I am still not JKR.

Harry Potter took one last look around Number 12, Grimmauld Place. It had been so good not to have to go back to the Dursley's after the war. He hadn't heard from them after they came out of hiding, not that he really cared to be honest.

He'd had plenty of company over the summer. Hermione had practically moved in after her unsuccessful trip to Australia to find her parents. Which meant that Ron was around all the time. Ginny had visited too, trying to rekindle their relationship. He'd tried to let her down gently, he wanted to stay friends, but she wasn't taking the hint. He couldn't use the war as an excuse anymore. George had come once or twice. He didn't say much. He didn't do much of anything anymore. Harry wasn't surprised. It upset him that people seemed to expect that George would pick up and carry on with his life and go back to his old hilarious self after the loss of his twin. Despite all the company Harry had never felt completely comfortable at the old Order headquarters. It didn't really feel like his house. It still felt like it belonged to the Blacks. The insufferable Mrs Black made sure Harry knew this every time the curtains over her portrait came open. Kreacher had performed his duties begrudgingly, hoping for the day he'd have a master worthy of his services. Sirius should have been there. He would have made things right. Harry was supposed to be sharing the huge house with his godfather.

Harry hauled his trunk in to the fire place and flooed to the Burrow.

Mrs Weasley was there to greet him with a warm hug.

"Ron around?" Harry asked after they'd exchanged pleasantries.

"He's over at George and Fr-" she stopped herself. Took a deep breath and smoothed out her apron. "He'll be back soon."

Molly turned and went back to the kitchen. Harry didn't follow. He thought she might need a moment to herself. He went in to the living room instead and sat down on one of the couches.

"Oh, Harry! I didn't know you were here!" Ginny entered the room and plonked herself down next to Harry. She placed her hand on his thigh. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm so glad you decided to come back and do seventh year with me," she cooed.

Harry didn't quite know what to say to that. He hadn't decided to go back there for _her_. In fact, he wasn't quite sure why he'd decided to go back at all. How could he go back to the place where he'd seen so much death and destruction? Where friends, family, students, teachers, enemies, even his very self, had died. It would never be the same.

"... and she's coming back too! It will be all the old gang together again."

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Ginny's talking.

"Did you just hear the floo?" he asked.

"That must be Ron," Ginny answered.

Harry stood up and headed in to the floo room to see Ron dusting himself off.

"Hey, mate, when did you get here?" asked Ron.

"Not that long ago. How was George?"

"Not so good. He wouldn't get out of bed and he wouldn't let go of that bottle of firewhiskey..." his voice trailed off. "Anyway, is 'Mione here? We'll have to get going soon. Don't want to be late." Ron punched Harry's shoulder lightly and laughed. Harry thought back to the time they'd missed the Hogwart's Express and the resulting consequences involving a flying car.

"She said she had to do some last minute shopping and that she'd meet me here."

"Do you kids want anything to eat?" Molly called from the kitchen.

Harry wasn't really feeling hungry.

"We just had breakfast, Mum!" Ron called back. "She's always trying to feed us," he muttered to Harry.

"I'll just pack you some lunches then," was Molly's reply. Mrs Weasley had always fussed over her children but did even more so since the war. She just wanted to keep herself busy.

At that moment Hermione came through the floo with a cranky look on her face.

"I thought you were going to wait for me at Grimmauld Place," she grumbled at Harry.

"But you said you'd meet me here!" said Harry, exasperated.

"I know what I _said_. But I _thought_ you would have waited for me."

Ron and Harry exchanged confused looks.

"Is that you, Hermione dear?" came Molly's voice again.

"It is me, Mrs Weasley," Hermione shot the two boys a look and left the room to go and find who she hoped would one day be her future mother-in-law.

"Why can't they just say what they mean instead of leaving us to try and figure it out?" Harry asked Ron in a lowered voice. Ron just shrugged and laughed.

They heard a commotion coming from the stairs and went to investigate. It was Ginny struggling with her trunk.

"Oh, Harry, could you help me with my trunk please?" she fluttered her eyes at him.

Ron smirked at his sister's shameless flirting and went to the kitchen.

Harry mounted the stairs and took Ginny's trunk. It wasn't really that heavy. The others met them at the bottom of the stairs. Molly handed them each their packed lunch.

"All ready then?" she asked.

"I think that's it," said Ron. "Mum, we can do this on our own now, you know? You don't need to come with us. We're all adults."

"Of course," Molly smoothed out her apron again and smiled at them all. Harry noticed that her eyes were glassy.

"We'll send you an owl as soon as we get there to let you know we're all safe and sound," Hermione patted Molly on the arm.

"Thank you, dear," Molly pulled Hermione in for a crushing hug.

They all said their goodbyes to Molly before heading for the floo.

King's Cross Station was as busy as ever. Children running everywhere. Frantic parents keeping track of trolleys, tickets and siblings. Disgruntled animals in cages. And that was without mentioning the unassuming Muggles going about their daily commutes.

Harry looked around and remembered that first time he'd come here. When Hagrid had left him with a ticket, a trunk and not much else. Thankfully he'd met the Weasleys who had shown him what to do.

_Was it really that long ago?_ Harry thought to himself. He'd been so innocent then. Before he'd ever heard of Voldemort or Death Eaters or his own legacy as The Boy Who Lived. Before he'd met Dumbledore or Dobby or Tonks or any of the others who had died in the war.

His thoughts stopped him in his tracks.

"You guys go on ahead. I'll meet you on the other side," he heard himself say. "I just need to... visit the loo."

"You can go to the toilet on the train, Harry," Hermione insisted.

"You'll be late otherwise," Ginny chimed in.

"Would you women leave the poor bloke alone!" Ron laughed. "If he needs to go he needs to go!" Ron steadied his trolley and ran for the block between platforms nine and ten.

"We'll see you there, Harry," Hermione followed Ron.

"Don't be too long," smiled Ginny before joining them on the other side.

Harry took a few deep breaths before looking around the station. And then he ran.

He kept running until he was out of the station and only stopped when he ran straight in to someone.

"Oof!"

They both crashed on to the ground hard. Harry began muttering impatient apologies before he looked down at the body underneath him.

Blond hair, grey eyes, pointy face. He'd know this person anywhere.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I am not now, nor have I ever been JKR.

Draco Malfoy took one last look around Malfoy Manor. He'd spent part of the Summer in Azkaban awaiting trial after being captured and taken there after the Battle. The Ministry had thought it the humane thing to do to put him on trial first, him being the youngest of the Death Eaters. Azkaban had been a truly terrifying place. He'd looked to his father, who'd been there a few times before, for guidance but Lucius had gone in to himself on arrival as some sort of defence mechanism, Draco thought, and didn't look to be coming out any time soon.

Draco had been found guilty of his crimes but given the time he had already spent in Azkaban and the face that he was underage when he'd committed some of them he'd been released; with conditions of course. He couldn't use magic for a year. He could return to Hogwarts if he wished and was allowed to use magic there obviously but he would have to hand his (well, not _his, _somebody else had _his_) wand to an appointed House Elf at the end of each class. The Elf would then accompany him to the next class and give him his wand there. Draco found that arrangement most undignified. At the end of the day he would meet with Headmistress McGonagall in her office where they'd talk about his day, he'd give her his wand go back to the private dorm they'd allowed for him and return the next day to retrieve it. He'd leave his wand there when he returned home during the holidays. The Ministry found this plan genius. Draco would get to complete his education and none of the parents could complain about having a former Death Eater at the school with their children. What the Ministry hadn't considered, but Draco certainly had, was the threat to _Draco_ on his return to Hogwarts.

The part of the Summer that Draco had spent at the Manor after his release had been lonely, with only his mother and a few House Elves for company. He'd owled a few of his fellow Slytherins to see if they'd be returning to Hogwarts that year. Blaise and Pansy had sent very short, un-committing replies, but nobody else had bothered. What Draco didn't know was that some of the others _had_ bothered but his mother had intercepted the owls before he'd been able to read them. She didn't want her son reading the terrible things they'd had to say to him about him being unwelcome back at Hogwarts; that he'd failed the Dark Lord and their cause or that he was a criminal and they wouldn't be seen associating with him.

Draco wandered in to the dining room and sat down at the head of the table. The Dark Lord, his former master had occupied this chair when the Manor had become the Death Eaters' headquarters. Draco had spent many a Death Eater meeting sitting at this table feeling absolutely terrified. He'd seen his Muggle Studies teacher murdered and eaten on this very table.

"Draco," his mother hissed from the doorway. "Get up from that chair right now."

Draco did as he was told. He didn't know why his mother didn't just burn the damned chair; and the whole Manor while she was at it. He watched as Narcissa looked him over and brushed him off before going over to the chair and cleaning it furiously with a spell from her wand.

"How many times have I told you not to sit in this chair?" his mother despaired.

"I'm sorry... I just..." Draco wasn't sure why he found himself sitting in the chair so often. Did it make him feel powerful? Did he _want_ to be reminded of the awful things that had happened there over the last year? His mother didn't seem to want to talk about it and after the weeks he'd spent in a lonely cell in Azkaban he'd found himself wishing for a companion to pour his guts out to. And if his mother wasn't willing to open up to him, he wasn't exactly going to confide in a bunch of lowly House Elves, was he?

"Are you all ready to go, dear?" Draco's thoughts were interrupted by his mother's voice.

Draco nodded and went up to his room to retrieve his trunk. This was the room he'd been trying to keep himself inconspicuous in when he was home for Easter break last year when he'd been summoned by his father and aunt to identify The Golden Trio. He shuddered at the memory of what torture his family had all endured after a livid Voldemort had come to the Manor to find out that they'd escaped.

Draco shook himself of those thoughts and gathered his trunk and took it downstairs to the Floo.

His mother gave him a kiss on the cheek and wished him all the best. He could see that she was on the verge of getting upset. The stoic Narcissa Malfoy didn't often let her emotions show.

He gave her hand one last squeeze and headed off.

King's Cross Station seemed busier than ever. Draco had never been here alone before. His parents had always accompanied him to protect him from the filthy Muggles who frequented the station. But he was an adult now and he could do this on his own. Draco started pushing his trolley towards platform nine when he saw a small boy with his father. Draco guessed he was probably a first year. It was hard for him to believe he had ever been that small or innocent. Long before he'd been hit with a Sectumsempra or seen his Headmaster murdered by his favourite teacher.

Was he really going back to Hogwarts after all that? After seeing his old friend burn to death in the Room of Requirement and fearing he would meet his own death the very same way?

Draco came back to the present only to be met with a menacing glare from the father of the young boy. He watched as the man cupped his son's face in his hands and whispered in the child's ear desperately. The boy gasped and looked back at Draco. He could only imagine what things the man was telling the boy about him. _You stay away from him. He's dangerous. He'll hurt you._

Draco saw the man pull his son down the platform and they ran together with their trolley and disappeared over to the magical side.

Draco thought of his own father in Azkaban. The Ministry was still gathering evidence and taking statements and Merlin only knew how long that would take and then there was the trial and that would take even longer.

What business did Draco have going back to a school where he was feared and despised anyway? Maybe he didn't have to go back at all. Maybe he could do something else; anything else.

He looked down at the trunk in his trolley and then back up at the children and parents heading down the platform. And then he ran.

He ran until he was out of the station and then stopped abruptly. What the hell was he doing out here? He was in the Muggle World for the first time ever and he didn't know a damn thing about it. He backed himself up against the wall. He wasn't thinking straight. This was stupid. At least he knew Hogwarts. Could he still get back to the train in time?

He turned to head back in to the station when he ran in to someone.

"Oof!"

They both crashed to the ground. Draco started muttering impatiently about watching where you're going before looking up at the body on top of him.

Untameable raven hair, a lightning scar, green eyes. He'd know that face anywhere.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own a lot of things, but the Potterverse isn't one of them.

The two boys stared at each other, wide-eyed for several seconds. Draco realised that if Harry stayed between his legs any longer things could get very embarrassing. He contorted his face in to the well-trained sneer he was known for and Harry quickly came to his senses and scrambled off him.

Brushing himself off Harry held out his hand to Draco. Draco considered this for a few moments, staring at Harry's outstretched hand. How reminiscent this was of the second time they'd met, on the Hogwarts Express, exactly seven years ago. Unlike Harry though, Draco took the offered hand.

He allowed himself to be pulled up to a standing position before the insults started flying.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

"You stupid git!"

"Why don't you watch where you're going?"

"You bloody idiot!"

"Why did I have to run in to _you_ of all people!"

They stopped and stared at each other again.

"_Well_, what are you doing out here, Potter? Aren't you supposed to be going back to school so you can become an Auror and save the world again from all evil like the saviour that you are?"

"Aren't _you_ supposed to be going back to school so you can hex everyone there in to oblivion? Oh, wait. That's right. You have to hand in your hand-me-down wand every night like the naughty little boy that you are. Ha!"

Draco opened his mouth to retort when he looked at the exit of the train station, wide-eyed.

Harry turned to see a stream of alarmed Muggles running frantically.

Draco, feeling a bit overwhelmed, had his back to the wall for the second time that morning. "Are they always like this?" he hissed.

"No, they're usually quite polite," Harry answered before a frightened Muggle pushed him in to Draco.

"Oi!" Draco shouted after them. "Don't be so rude!"

"Just let it go," Harry tried to sound soothing. "Something's obviously spooked them." Harry turned and shielded Draco.

"I don't need you to protect me, Potter!"

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "Force of habit."

The two boys looked at the chaos around them.

"What's going on?" Harry shouted over the flustered crowd.

"There's a bomb!" someone called back.

Harry turned to Draco. "Let's get out of here!" He held his arm out to Draco.

"What the hell are you doing?" Draco asked, exasperated.

"We're going to Disapparate, of course!" came Harry's reply.

"Are you _mad_? We can't do that in front of Muggles!"

"They won't even notice! Look at them." He gestured to the madness around them. "Come _on_!" Harry waved his elbow for Draco to take hold of.

"I can't _do_ magic, remember?" Draco looked slightly embarrassed.

"_You_ won't be doing it. I will. We'll do a Side-Along."

"Forget it, Potter! I am _not_ going back to Azkaban!"

"Fine! We'll run then!"

Harry pulled on the sleeve of Draco's robes and they disappeared in to the crowd.

They ran for several blocks before Harry hauled Draco around a corner and in to a Muggle pub.

"Where are we?" Draco asked.

"I came here a few times with Hermione during the summer," Harry looked around for somewhere to sit.

They found a secluded table and Harry ordered them both a beer. Draco got a few funny looks from the other patrons due to his wizard robes. Their beers arrived and they both took a sip. Draco gave his beer a funny look.

"This isn't butter beer?" he gave Harry a puzzled look.

"Muggles don't drink butter beer," Harry shrugged and took another sip.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"So what were you doing outside the station anyway?" Harry enquired.

"I don't... actually know. I wasn't really thinking," Harry raised his eyebrows, "I was just acting on impulse," Harry smirked at him. "_What_?"

"That is an extremely Gryffindor thing to do!" Harry teased.

Draco scowled. "Well what were _you_ doing out there?" Draco took another sip of his beer and frowned at it like the drink had greatly offended him.

"I wasn't even sure if I wanted to go back to Hogwarts and when it came to pushing my trolley through I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

Draco nodded and sipped his beer again, it actually didn't taste _that_ bad. "I know that feeling. So what's your plan then?"

"Just to get the hell away from it all. I don't owe anyone anything anymore. I want to live! I want to see the world..." He threw his hands up dramatically. "You could come with me if you want." Harry offered.

Draco frowned. "But we hate each other."

Harry laughed. "The war is over, man. There are no sides anymore. Besides, you looked so helpless outside the station there and me and my saviour complex couldn't just _leave_ you there."

Draco should have retorted but he actually considered this for a few moments. The war _was_ over now. They weren't enemies anymore and what else was he going to do? Go back to Hogwarts where he didn't have a friend in the world? Go back home and mope around with the House Elves? Travelling around with Harry bleeding Potter actually sounded better than either of those options. And it wasn't like the git had any reason to feel threatened by the former Death Eater, he defeated the Dark Lord for Salazar's sake!

"So where are we going first?"

Harry smiled. The thought of actually getting to know this stupid bastard was strangely appealing to him. He thought back to something Sirius had said to him once about everybody having both light and dark in them. He knew there had to be _some_ good in Draco. He'd had more than one opportunity to turn Harry over to the Dark Lord but he hadn't and Harry didn't want to be _completely_ alone and maybe Draco might even provide some stimulating conversation and be good company.

"First, we are going to get you some new clothes."

Draco caressed his robes lovingly. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Harry laughed. "They're just not Muggle enough, Malfoy. We're going to have to try and blend in."

Draco grumbled something under his breath that Harry didn't quite catch.

They finished their beers and stood up. Harry went over to the counter to pay for their beers. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and produced a small plastic card which the barman scanned and then returned to Harry who placed it back in his wallet which was then returned to his pocket.

When the two young men were back outside Draco asked Harry about the card.

"Hermione did it for me. She read some article in _Witch Weekly_ or one of her magazines which explained how to link your Gringott's account to one of these cards so you can go shopping in the Muggle world. I don't quite know how it works except that I can use this instead of having to go back to my vault all the time and the Muggles don't suspect a thing."

"Huh. That's actually quite clever." Merlin, did he really just admit that the Mudblood was clever? "The article, I mean. Not the... anyway..."

Harry just smirked and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Malfoy. We're going shopping."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Even if I changed my name to Joanne Kathleen Rowling, I still wouldn't own the rights to Harry Potter.

Harry started making his way towards the Muggle shopping centres with Draco whining behind him all the way.

"Why do we have to buy me new clothes anyway?"

"What's wrong with the clothes I've got?"

"There's no way you'll get me in to an outfit like _that_," pointing at a mannequin in a shop window.

Harry eventually turned around and hissed that if Draco didn't shut the hell up he'd find a Time Turner so he could go back and leave him behind in the Room of Requirement. Draco was pretty sure that Harry was only joking but it certainly shut him up.

"And in case you haven't noticed, I don't have any clothes either," Harry added.

They entered a shop and with some help from a Sales Assistant they'd picked out some clothes to try on and headed for the Fitting Rooms.

Harry couldn't help but sneak a peek at Draco through the gaps in the curtains. The mirrors in the cubicle gave Harry a complete view of Draco's body from every angle. And Harry was quite shocked at what he saw. He had been obsessed with Draco through his sixth year at Hogwarts and noticed the change in him then with his sunken eyes and his skin becoming even paler than usual; but now Harry could see the ribs poking out from Draco's skin. The skin was so grey it was almost colourless. Azkaban had obviously taken its toll on Draco who had always been pretty slim to begin with. Harry remembered how dishevelled Sirius had looked after spending over a decade in the infamous wizard prison. He decided then and there that he was going to make it his mission to fatten this boy up.

He looked up and saw the Sales Assistant smirking at him and, blushing, he entered his own cubicle.

Several hours later the two boys were back at King's Cross station. Things on the Underground had settled down considerably compared to earlier in the day and their trunks were long gone. They'd bought a backpack each and filled it with clothing for all kinds of weather and occasions and other essentials such as toiletries and basic first aid kits and phrase books. Harry, who had been reluctant to do any magic at all, had transfigured some passports and other forms of identification from their shopping receipts.

"Merlin, this is heavy!" Harry said as she shifted the bag on his back to a more comfortable position.

"Was there anything of value in your trunk?" Harry asked Draco.

"Not really," Draco shrugged. "Just some clothes – which you've informed me several times already are completely useless to me – and some treats from Mother, which I'm not going to miss." He turned and looked at Harry. "What about you?"

"Oh, Merlin," Harry sighed, putting his hand up to his head. "Not much. Only my Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map," Harry said sarcastically, shaking his head.

"You have an Invisibility Cloak?" Draco asked.

"I _had_ an Invisibility Cloak," Harry corrected him. "And I had your wand, too. I was going to give it to McGonogall so she could decide whether or not you should have it back."

Draco blew out his breath contemplating this. Now his wand was gone forever.

"Do you think the Muggles will even be able to open to open our trunks?"

"Probably not," Harry pondered. "I put all sorts of protective charms on it for that very reason."

The train pulled up in front of them and they stepped in to the carriage.

"Mind the gap!" a voice advised out of nowhere.

Draco jumped.

"Did you hear that?" he hissed in Harry's ear.

"Yes, everybody heard that," Harry reassured him.

"How do the Muggles do that? Is it magic?"

Harry began explaining how the speakers work but it was only one stop before they had to get off at Euston and change to the Northern line.

"So where are we going anyway?" Draco asked.

"The hell out of Britain that's for sure," Harry answered.

They got off at Waterloo station and headed for the information desk to buy their tickets and organise accommodation. They were lucky that there were still tickets available for the next train and they'd booked a hotel.

They hopped on the train and stowed their backpacks in the luggage compartment before finding their seats.

"We really have to work something out here, Potter. I can't let you pay for everything," Draco began.

"It's fine," Harry interrupted. "The Potter vault isn't exactly small and even if I run out of money there is always Sirius's vault."

"Sirius?"

"Yes. Sirius Black. My godfather. He left everything to me in his will."

"But wasn't he partly responsible for your parents' death?"

"No. That was Wormtail."

Draco remembered finding Pettigrew dead at the Manor having been strangled by the silver hand Voldemort had fashioned for him. He shuddered and tried to get the conversation back on track.

"Do you think you could make me one of those cards and link it to my vault at Gringott's?"

"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "I could try. I don't _really_ remember how Hermione did it. And I can't exactly do it here in front of all these Muggles," Harry gestured to the people around them. "Maybe when we get to our hotel."

"It just isn't fair. I have plenty of money in my vault," Draco protested.

"Look, don't worry about it. We'll work something out. You can always pay me back with sex if worse comes to worst."

Draco's eyes went wide.

"I was joking!"

Harry pulled a travel book from the pocket of the chair in front of him and started reading. Draco settled himself in to his chair and stared out the window.

A couple of hours later the train pulled in to Paris and the boys gathered their backpacks and after getting their passports checked they headed out of the station. It was already dark there and Harry thought it would be best to catch a taxi to their hotel instead of trying to decipher the Metro de Paris. These plans were soon thwarted when they were informed that the Paris taxi drivers were on strike that day.

Harry groaned, dumped his backpack on the ground and sat down on a nearby bench and pulled out the metro map. He stared at it blankly.

"This is so confusing!" he despaired.

"Give it here!" Draco placed his backpack next to Harry's, snatched the map out of Harry's hands, sat down next to Harry on the bench and opened up the map on his lap, peering at it with interest.

"And what makes you think you'll have any more luck with that than I did?" Harry asked, turning to Draco, his hands on his hips in protest.

"It just so happens that I am fluent in French," Draco answered haughtily, not taking his eyes off the map.

"You are?" Harry was surprised by this new information. "When did you learn French?"

"It's very important for Pure Bloods to learn at least one other European language," Draco informed Harry. "It comes in handy when you're at Pure Blood social events or making contracts with other families and the like. But I suppose you wouldn't know that being only a _Half_ Blood."

Harry ignored that last part but the rest of it seemed to make sense. He supposed that Sirius had probably learnt another language too if what Draco was saying was true though Sirius had never mentioned it.

"Mother learnt German but Father wanted me to learn French because all the Malfoy men spoke French," Draco continued. He folded the map and looked at Harry. "Though Mother did teach me a little bit of German. Your godfather probably spoke German, being a Black."

Draco put the map in his backpack and stood up.

"I know where our hotel is. It should be pretty easy to get to on the train." He hauled the backpack on to his back and winced under the weight of it. Harry contemplated how hard it must be for Draco to carry his backpack, being so undernourished after his stint in Azkaban. Harry was struggling with his own bag and, though he was shorter than Draco, he had a bit more meat on him than the other boy. Harry considered casting a weightless charm on Draco's backpack but he knew Draco would notice the difference and didn't want to hurt his pride.

They took the train ride to the station nearest their hotel and walked the few blocks there. Draco went to the desk to check-in and Harry got to hear him speak French for the first time. Harry knew very little French, only a few words and phrases but was very quickly lost in the conversation, it was going so fast. Like most people, Harry found the language of France very romantic and hearing Draco speak it now only cemented this theory. Harry was mesmerised. Although he couldn't understand a word they were saying, Harry could soon tell that the conversation wasn't a pleasant one and it sounded like Draco and the receptionist were arguing. Draco cast a glance in Harry's direction, looked him up and down, blushed and turned back to the receptionist and asked a question before sighing and turning to Harry.

"There's been a mistake with the booking," he said.

"Oh?"

"They've booked a double room instead of a twin."

"Oh!" Now it was Harry's turn to blush. "Can't they just change it?" he asked.

"No. Apparently there are no other rooms available."

"Can we get a refund and go and find somewhere else to stay?"

Draco sighed. "The frogs are claiming that the mistake was made at our end and they're refusing to give us a refund."

Harry grimaced. "Then I guess we don't really have a choice then, do we?"

Draco groaned before turning back to the receptionist and finalising the check-in. The boys took the keys and their backpacks and trudged up to their room.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter. Yes, that's right. I own a copy, but I do not own the rights to it. JKR does.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, favourites and subcriptions. It makes me giddy. :)

Hermione, Ron and Ginny sat in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express waiting expectantly for Harry to join them.

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione cried. "He should be here by now!" she was wringing her hands in her lap. "The train is going to leave soon!"

She looked at Ron desperately and flared her eyes at him.

"What are you looking at me for?" he sat up straight in his chair.

"We have to go and get him," she stood up and looked up and down the carriage, hoping to catch a glimpse of her best friend.

"Forget it," Ron replied. "Harry's a big boy. He can look after himself." Ron still remembered the embarrassing Howler his mother had sent him after missing the train with Harry in second year, and he didn't want a repeat of that.

Hermione turned to Ginny. "He's been acting very strangely this last week. I wouldn't put it passed him to do something stupid."

"I highly doubt that, Hermione. Harry would have told me if there was something bothering him," Ginny answered.

Hermione had to force herself not to roll her eyes at the younger girl.

"Well you guys can stay here if you like, but I'm going back to check if he's alright." She turned to Ron. "Don't you remember the last time he went missing on the train only to turn up hours later with his face smashed in by one Draco Malfoy?"

She left the compartment with Ginny hot on her heels.

The two girls were shocked at the scene before them as they stumbled back on to platform nine of King's Cross station. There were people running everywhere, pushing each other out of the way on their path to the exits. The two girls glanced each other with a puzzled look before something caught Ginny's eye. Hermione followed her gaze. There they saw two men, one not much older than them, the other a lot older. They appeared to be security. The older man was shouting in to a walkie-talkie type thing and the younger was looking rather bewildered. Between them was a trolley with a trunk in it. Harry's trunk. The two girls gasped.

"_Accio trunk_!" they both shouted at the same time.

The trunk lifted out of the trolley and came flying towards them. The two men followed the trunk with their eyes until it stopped in mid-air right just a few feet from Hermione. The older man's face went red with rage.

"I told you lots of weird stuff happens on this day! Didn't I tell you that, Allen?" he shouted at the younger man.

Hermione grabbed the trunk and hauled it towards the block.

"Come on, Ginny!" she cried before disappearing to the other side.

Ginny was frozen on the spot, wide-eyed, for there was another trunk hurtling towards her. She screamed but someone pushed her out of the way and stopped the trunk with strong hands before it could hit her. She looked up in surprise for her saviour. It was Ron.

"Come on, Gin!" her buff older brother picked up the trunk with ease and grabbed her arm, pulling her to block before the magical charms could lock them out.

Ginny had just enough time to cast _Obliviate_ at the two angry guards running towards them.

Allen and Harding stared at each other for a few seconds before looking around at the chaos before them.

"What in the world? How did we get here?" Allen asked.

"Stop running! Hey! Walk! Don't run!" Harding shouted to the commuters around them.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny were back on the platform to the Hogwarts Express. The conductor was making his final call. Parents and children were quickly hugging and saying tearful goodbyes. They hauled the two trunks on to the train and made their way back to their compartment as quickly as the weight of the trunks would allow them. They fell in to their seats, gasping for air and then started laughing hysterically at the events which had just occurred.

"Bloody hell! You women!" Ron sputtered.

"Oh my god, that was close!" Hermione clutched at her chest, struggling to catch her breath for laughter.

"If it weren't for you, Ron, that trunk would have knocked me out!" Ginny giggled.

"Hey, whose trunk is that anyway?" Ron asked, peering at the second trunk quizzically.

"I have no idea," Ginny answered, eyeing it with interest. "Hermione and I both shouted _Accio_ at the same time so that must be why the second trunk came at us."

"You don't suppose somebody else did a runner like Harry did, do you?" Hermione asked her two friends.

Ron shrugged. "It's possible. I mean, Harry can't be the only one who's reluctant to go back to Hogwarts after the war."

"So what should we do with these trunks then?" Ginny asked.

"We should hand them in as soon as we get off the train," Hermione urged.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I knew you'd say that, 'Mione. I think we should try and open them."

"Ron!" Hermione admonished him.

"What? I want that bloody cloak! And the map! Those things are going to come in mighty handy, you know!" He waggled his eyebrows at Hermione suggestively.

Hermione growled. "I want nothing to do with it." She folded her arms across her chest.

Hermione pulled out her brand new updated edition of _Hogwarts: A History _from her bag, studying it intensely, and didn't say another word for the rest of the trip while Ron and Ginny conspired about who the other trunk might belong to and ways in which they might be able to open it.

When the train finally pulled up at Hogwarts Hermione, Ron and Ginny saw Thestrals for the first time. Hermione realised they weren't nearly as frightening as she thought they would be. It was scarier knowing they were there and not being able to see them. Though she wished she'd never had to see them ever, knowing that it was only after seeing somebody die that you were able to see them. Hermione had convinced the other two to do the right thing and they'd handed both the trunks in to Filch who would give them to McGonogall to decide what to do with them.

"Hello there," came a dreamy voice from behind them.

They turned around to see Luna Lovegood wearing a bright pink dress with lime green polka dots teamed with multi-coloured striped tights and shoes that didn't match. She smiled at them each in turn.

"Where is Harry?" she asked, patting the Thestral before climbing on to the carriage, Hermione, Ron and Ginny climbing in after her.

"Well, we don't actually know," Hermione began.

"We haven't seen him since King's Cross and when we went to find him he was gone," Ginny continued.

"But we found his trunk there, and somebody else's too, though we don't know whose it is," Ron finished.

"It was probably Draco Malfoy's," Luna mused.

Ron scowled. "What makes you say that? Out of more than one thousand students at Hogwarts you decide to single it out as Draco Malfoy's?"

"Well, when I was held prisoner in their dungeon he used to bring our meals down to us and he just looked so sad and frightened, the poor boy. He only ever _Crucio_-ed us when his aunt was with him. I'm sure if you ask Dean he'll say the same."

Hermione was shocked that Luna could talk about being _Crucio_-ed so freely. She was still traumatised by her own torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"But what does that have to do with him leaving his trunk behind?" she asked.

"Well if I were Draco I probably wouldn't want to come back to Hogwarts. He probably won't have many friends here this year. I would try and be his friend. He's a nice boy, really."

Ginny stifled a laugh. "Draco Malfoy is many things, but nice isn't one of them."

"Though if both Harry's _and_ Draco's trunks have been left behind then maybe they're together," said Luna, ignoring Ginny's comment.

Ron guffawed and began to wonder how on earth Luna ever managed to be sorted in to Ravenclaw with the harebrained ideas she came up with.

"Draco cares very deeply for Harry," Luna continued, unaware of the amused faces of her companions. Luna couldn't understand why she seemed to be the only one to notice this. All through their years at Hogwarts everywhere Harry went Draco wasn't far behind him. Everything Harry did Draco had something to say about it.

"I can assure you, Luna, Draco doesn't have a caring bone in his body, especially where Harry is concerned," Ron was convinced. "And wherever Harry is he is definitely _not_ with Draco Malfoy."


	7. Chapter 7

Dislcaimer: I simply can not afford to buy the rights to Harry Potter.

The room wasn't anything fancy. It had a small writing desk, a chair, a bar fridge, basic tea and coffee making facilities, a tiny television, a poky little bathroom and, of course, only one bed. The boys put their backpacks down before glancing around the room and then looking at each other uncomfortably.

"This might not be so bad, you know?" Harry began.

Draco scowled. "Are you serious? It really couldn't get any worse!"

Harry shrugged. "I've shared a bed with Ron a few times before."

Draco made a face and pretended to cover his ears. "I do _not_ want to know what you and the Weasel got up to last year when you were on your little camping trip! What did your pet Mudblood have to say about it? Doesn't she have a thing for the Weasel?"

"It wasn't like _that_!" Harry protested. "And their names are Ron and Hermione. And she isn't my _pet_!"

"Whatever. Are the Weasleys so poor that they can't afford a bed for each person?"

"Oh my _god_, you are an insufferable _git_!" Harry sat himself on the bed and grabbed the room service menu. "I'm bloody starving. Let's order something to eat."

They ordered dinner and ate it in silence before Harry got up and took a pair of pyjamas and his toiletries out of his backpack and headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

Draco sat on the corner of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. How the hell had he gotten himself in to this mess? This morning he was supposed to be boarding the train to Hogwarts and somehow he'd finished the day in Paris sharing a bed with Harry freaking Potter, The Boy He'd Tried So Damn Hard To Hate. How was he going to get through the night? What if he woke up the next morning to find he'd been spooning Harry in their sleep? What if he had an embarrassing 'problem' in the downstairs department in the morning, how would he deal with that? Draco wiped his sweaty hands on his new trousers and blushed to himself remembering the time in fourth year when Blaise had heard him moaning in his sleep during one of numerous wet dreams he'd had about Harry over the years. Thankfully Blaise had agreed to keep quiet about it once he'd threatened to let Grabbe and Goyle loose on him. What Zabini didn't realise is that, while Crabbe and Goyle looked menacing, the two of them were as harmless as teddy bears. Draco laughed to himself before realising it was the first time he'd thought about Crabbe without feeling sad.

Harry emerged from the bathroom and Draco jumped, startled out of his thoughts and turned to face Harry. Good Merlin, how could that boy even make a pair of daggy flannelette pyjamas look cute? Though that hair was as wild as ever.

"Do you even _own_ a hairbrush?" Draco snarled.

"Of course I do!" Harry protested, patting down his hair with his free hand. He put his toiletries back in to his backpack and hopped in to bed, facing away from Draco and snuggling himself in under the covers.

"These pjs feel weird," he said. "They feel all stiff and cardboard-y. I probably should have washed them to soften them up before I wore them."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You defeated a Dark Lord and you're complaining about the texture of your pyjamas?"

Harry sighed, ignoring Draco. He really shouldn't complain. At least he had new clothes now instead of Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs. "Aren't you going to get ready for bed?"

"I am _not_ going to sleep with you, Potter!" Draco snapped.

"Oh for goodness sake, Draco, would you grow up?" Harry smacked his pillow, trying to make it comfortable to sleep on.

Draco lay down facing away from Harry and punched his own pillow in to submission.

"I'll sleep on top of the covers, thank you very much."

"Do what you like, Malfoy, I really couldn't give a crap."

"Fine!"

"Aren't you at least going to take your shoes off?"

"I think I'd prefer to leave them on; in case I need to make a quick get away from _you_."

Harry groaned, then sighed, then closed his eyes and quickly drifted in to dream mode.

Draco lay there awake, contemplating the ridiculous situation he was in before eventually losing his own battle with the sand man.

Sometime during the night Harry woke up to use the bathroom and returned to see Draco curled up in a ball looking very cold. He considered letting the git freeze but his Gryffindor tendencies got the better of him and he pulled the quilt around Draco and tucked him in. Draco mumbled something in his sleep before pulling the quilt up closer to his chin. Harry grinned and hopped back in to bed.

Draco woke up early the next morning surprised at how warm he was before realising that he had the quilt on him. He didn't remember pulling the quilt on during the night. He figured it must have been Harry who'd put it on him. He smiled at the thought and realised how bloody uncomfortable it was sleeping in his clothes before closing his eyes and trying to get a bit more sleep before starting the day.

A week later they were standing in line at the Eiffel Tower. They'd seen most of the sights of Paris including the Louvre, Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris Disneyland (even though Draco didn't know anything about the Muggle film company, he'd still enjoyed the rides), the Champs Elysees and Arc de Triomphe to name just a few. They'd also spent a lot of time just wandering around the place and stuffing themselves with the fantastic French cuisine like croissants and crepes and baguettes with a lot of 'have another chocolate eclair, Draco' on Harry's part. By some miracle Harry had managed to remember the necessary charms to transfigure a card to link to Draco's Gringott's vault. Draco had been amazed that you could put that card in to a slot in the wall and money had magically come out of it. He wondered why wizards didn't have something similar. It would save a lot of hassle of dealing with those goblins. Maybe these Muggles weren't so silly after all. Draco had taken to paying for absolutely everything in order to pay Harry back for the clothes and train tickets and accommodation though maybe the restaurants he'd taken Harry too were a little on the expensive side and perhaps he'd gone a little over board with the 'do you like that, Harry? Here let me pay for it. No, I insist!' To both the boys' relief they'd managed to move in to a twin room after the awkward night they'd spent in the double room. They'd both avoided mentioning Harry's sweet gesture with the quilt.

"No, I don't want to buy a key ring, thank you very much," Draco snarled at the fourth gypsy who'd approached them selling trinkets to tourists in the line.

The line was moving surprisingly fast for this time of year which everybody was grateful for. When they finally reached the top the boys were surprised at how windy it was up there. They had to hold on to the railings to steady themselves. They looked out over Paris and pointed out the places they'd visited.

"Man, that Louvre place is huge!" Draco held his hand out in the direction of the palace turned art museum.

"You know, Muggles always say that the Eiffel Tower is supposed to be romantic," Harry mused.

"I don't _do_ romance, Potter," Draco spat.

Harry frowned at him and cocked his head in the direction of a Muggle couple who were trapped in an intense snog.

Draco cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably and mumbled "oh, yeah, right" before moving on around the top of the Tower.

Harry shook his head, bemused. What the hell did Draco think he was suggesting?

When they'd done a full circle around the top of the tower and returned to where they'd started the Muggle man was on his knees brandishing a small jewellery box and the Muggle woman was jumping up and down, screaming and crying.

Harry and Draco looked at each other and they both made a disgusted face. _Proposing in public, how very uncouth_, Draco thought. They both laughed before making their way back to the lift to make their descent back to solid ground.

That night they went to the Moulin Rouge which had been an eye-opening experience with all the colours and feathers and breasts and flesh and champagne. The Muggles they shared a cramped table with whined and complained about the rudeness of the waiters, who were run off their feet, and had brought them the wrong food. Harry couldn't really follow the storyline because it was all in French but he still managed to enjoy himself immensely and they'd laughed hysterically at the intermission acts. They returned to their room and washed up and packed their bags before retiring for the night. The next day they boarded the bus for their next destination.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: You should know this by now. Also, I thought I should mention that the title to this fic is taken from the song of the same name by Lykke Li. Have a listen, it's lovely.

Harry and Draco were in Amsterdam and, as was the done thing in Holland, they decided to hire bicycles and ride around exploring.

"What's a Bye-Sickle?" Draco asked, as they made their way to the bike hire place.

"_Bicycle_," Harry corrected. "It's a little like a broomstick – " he began.

"Cool!" Draco interrupted.

" – that has wheels – "

"O-kay..."

" – but it doesn't leave the ground."

"That sounds nothing like a broomstick," Draco frowned and stopped walking.

"Okay then," Harry turned to face Draco and tried again. "You know the bus we've been on?" Draco nodded, looking sceptical. "It's sort of like that except it's only got two wheels and it's not closed in, it's open to the air, _like a broomstick_, and you have to power it with your legs."

"You're really not making this sound any better."

Harry scowled and continued on. "Look, we are hiring bicycles and that's all there is to it. It's just what you do when you go to Holland. It'll be fun."

"But I don't even know what to do with a bicycle!" Draco protested; he had to run a little to catch up to Harry.

"It's really not that hard. I'll teach you."

After they'd collected their bikes they walked them to the top of a slight hill at a nearby park.

"Put this on," Harry said as he handed Draco a helmet.

"What for?"

"Because," Harry placed his own helmet on his head and did up the clip under his chin. How was he going to explain this? The last thing he needed was for Draco to get some sort of head injury and _in case you hurt yourself_ probably wasn't a good enough reason for someone as head strong and cocky as Draco. "The bike doesn't work unless you have it on. It won't activate until you have it on your head and clipped up properly."

Draco scowled. "What bloody Muggle came up with that idea?"

"A sensible one," Harry retorted. "Now just put it on so we can get on with this."

"It's going to mess up my hair," Draco protested as he placed the helmet on his head. As he did the clip up it pinched a bit of skin under his chin. "Ouch!" he yelped.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Harry muttered as unclipped and re-clipped Draco's helmet. Draco held his breath and tried to look everywhere but at Harry, suddenly aware of the other boy's close proximity. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Right!" Harry said as he slapped his hand down on Draco's helmet. _That ought to protect what little amount of brains you have in your head_, he thought to himself.

"Let's get started," he said as he straddled his bike. Harry didn't have much experience with bicycles himself. When he was small he had once snuck out and went for a ride on Dudley's brand new bike that he never used and got in to rather a lot of trouble for it.

"The handles are what you use to direct the bike." Harry demonstrated by steering the front wheel left, then right and back again.

"You use the pedals to power the bike... It's easier if you just watch." He placed his right foot on its pedal and pushed off with his left, pedalling down the hill and then using the handles to steer the bike around and ride back again, explaining as he went.

"Think you can do it?" he asked Draco.

"Course I can do it!" Draco snorted as he cocked one leg over his bike.

"Alright," Harry said, dismounting his own bike on its stand before heading over to Draco, who was sat on the bike's seat. Harry placed one hand on the handle of Draco's bike and the other on the back of the seat. _Again with the closeness_, Draco thought and grit his teeth, as Harry gave Draco's bike a little push to get started.

Draco descended the hill and then the bike wobbled a bit as it got to the bottom.

"Keep pedalling!" Harry called. "Use the handles to keep it straight!"

After a little while practising they seemed to have the hang of it and decided to head off and have a look around. Bikes rule the roads in Holland so they didn't need to worry about having to fight with any cars, who seemed to stay well of the cyclists' way. The boys had to laugh at the multi-storey bicycle parking.

"Wanna have a race?" Harry called when they came to a particularly quiet street.

Draco looked at him, a little unsure.

"I mean... you don't have to if you don't want to... if you don't feel confident enough..." Harry allowed.

Draco scowled. He'd never pass up an opportunity to compete against Potter. That's why he'd tried out for the position of Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, after all.

"You're on!" he shouted as he sped off.

"Oi!" Harry called out after him. "That's not fair!"

Harry pedalled after Draco and soon over took him.

"Ha!" Harry called as he turned his head round. "I let you have a head start and I'm still beating you!" He flashed Draco a cheeky grin.

Draco's face went wide with horror.

"Look out!"

But it was too late. Harry rode across an intersection without looking and crashed straight in to another cyclist. The horrible sound of metal crunching against metal screeched in Draco's ears as he saw the two riders crash to the ground. He abandoned his own bike and ran towards them.

"You complete imbecile!" Draco roared. "Why didn't you bloody watch where you were going?"

"M'sorry," Harry mumbled as he fumbled around for his glasses.

"You could have bloody killed him!"

"Okay!" Harry placed his glasses on. "I'm pretty sure I didn't kill him so just calm the hell down!"

When Harry's eyes had focused he saw that Draco wasn't chastising _him_ but had hold of the other rider, a boy a few years younger than them, by the shirt and was shouting in his face.

"You shouldn't even be riding if you don't know what you're doing!"

"Malfoy..." Harry began.

The boy was staring at Draco with wide eyes.

"Did you not _see_ the stop sign?"

"Malfoy!"

Harry thought the young boy was about to start crying he looked so scared and confused.

"_Draco_!"

Draco startled, as if coming out of a trance, and let go of the boy who promptly picked up his mangled bike and ran off. Draco turned to Harry and dropped down on his knees next to him.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, shivering with emotion.

"I'm fine," Harry tried to sound reassuring.

"_Show me _that you are fine," Draco insisted.

Harry went to get up but winced when he moved his arm. The two boys looked down and saw the left sleeve of Harry's jacket ripped and bloody.

"You're hurt!"

"It's alright. We'll get it fixed. Just... help me get up."

Draco put an arm around Harry's waist and Harry slung an arm around Draco's shoulders and, rather awkwardly, they got to their feet.

"Can you walk?" Draco asked.

"Yes!" Harry scowled. "It's just my arm! I'm not an invalid!"

"_Alright_," Draco muttered as he removed his own jacket and wrapped it around Harry's arm, forming a makeshift sling.

"You don't have to do that," Harry protested.

"Shush," Draco said as he secured to jacket with a knot behind Harry's neck. "You don't have to be a hero _all_ the time." He picked up Harry's battered bike with one hand and then walked over to pick up his own bike.

Harry scowled and took his bike out of Draco's hand and, with a bit of difficulty, started wheeling it back in the direction they came.

"Where do Muggles go when they're hurt?" Draco asked as they made their way back to the bicycle hire place.

"They have hospitals, sort of like St Mungo's," Harry answered.

"But how do they heal without magic?"

Harry shrugged. "They seem to get by alright. It just takes a bit longer."

"You should get your arm looked at."

"S'alright."

"I'm serious! It looks pretty bad."

Harry sighed.

"Lucky we got insurance," he laughed when they arrived at the bike hire.

When the boys returned to their hotel after returning their bikes, Harry sat on his bed and started to remove Draco's jacket from his arm.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, incredulous as he sat on his own bed and stared at Harry. "I thought we were going to go to the hospital!"

"Buggered if I'm going to wait for this to heal the Muggle way," Harry answered, wincing as he peeled off his own jacket and the shirt underneath it. He rummaged around in his bag for his wand and didn't notice Draco's face redden at the sight of him shirtless.

"Aha!" he cried as he pulled it out from near the bottom, along with several stray, smelly socks and crinkled underwear.

"You shouldn't really leave your wand in your bag. You should keep it on your person at all times," Draco warned. "What if somebody found it?"

"It's not like they'd know what to do with it," Harry shrugged as he cast a pain relieving spell on his arm. The mild Muggle pain killers they'd gotten at a chemist on the way back hadn't really done the job.

"_Tergeo_," Harry commanded and the spell set to work cleaning up the dried blood and bits of gravel that had embedded in Harry's arm.

"Why'd you go all mental on that boy for?" he asked Draco, casually.

"You were hurt!" Draco answered, defensively.

"I've been hurt before you know," Harry scoffed. "_Epiksey_," he said, pointing the wand at his wound. He frowned when nothing happened.

"It's _Episkey_, you idiot," Draco corrected him.

"I just think it was a pretty severe reaction for a pretty minor thing. You've seen me hurt worse than that before and didn't do anything about it." Exactly what Harry wanted to hear he wasn't quite sure. _Because I like you_? _Because I care about you_?

"I don't have time for your twenty questions right now, Potter," Draco said after a few moments of silence, and stood up. "I'm going to shower," he announced.

"Good," Harry said. "You smell."

Draco scoffed and gathered up his things and headed for the bathroom.

Harry aimed his wand at his arm again. "_Episkey_," he said this time and the wound knitted together neatly, leaving no trace of his minor injury.

A/N: Holy Helga, you guys do _not_ want to know the BS that has been happening in my life recently. I do plan to finish this story and hopefully write a sequel as well. Updates may be sporadic; the next chapter might be posted tomorrow or next week/month/year. Thanks for sticking with me so far and I hope life is treating you all well. Xo


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